Introduction

The idea for this story came from a lack of information. According to Eoin Colfer, Artemis developed Atlantis Complex because of his "dabbling in magic". However, I always thought that was a little bit of a weak explanation. I felt like there had to be something else to it.

The story is set between Time Paradox and Atlantis Complex. I have imagined the reasons for Artemis's madness, as well as the building and reasons for building the Ice Cube. One note before we start - I sort of dislike Hollemis and other shippings, so yes, it's Artemis Fowl x OC. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

Skylar's Video Diary, 27 September

I am not normal. That I know for sure.

I hate it when people start all that rubbish about 'no such thing as normal'. You might not think so. But I am as far from normal as it gets.

I am smart, in the words of my irritating peers from school, even though I gave up on school last year, partly since other kids my age are annoying, and partly it got in my way. I don't need to go there. I am much more intelligent than any of the teachers. I don't need other people. I can manage just fine by myself.

I am not lonely; I'm just alone. My mother died years ago and my father is never around. That's how I like it. The way I see it, talking to myself is the only intelligent conversation I can ever get, because I'm surrounded by idiots, and it's exhausting.

So I stay shut up in my room, with my computers, my cat, Biscotti, and chocolate chip cookies, which I am slightly addicted to.

My name is Skylar Woodley. You have probably heard of me, but if you cross me, you'll wish you never had.

That's what I say. Melodramatic, I know, but what is life if not a show? But unfortunately mine has taken a... well, unfortunate turn.

Father has returned, which would be fine if it did not mean I would be forced to go to a party for one of his associates.

Ugh, parties. I compare them to Marmite. Love them or hate them. I am in the hate camp but I am beginning to think I am alone there.

Ah, well, I'll survive.

Probably.

Skylar Woodley, signing off.

Artemis

"Myles!" I yell down the stairs, examining the damage my little brother has created.

"What?" Myles replies, strolling as casually as anything into the lab.

I glare at him indignantly. "Did you break my laptop?"

Myles looks carefully at the laptop's sticky keys, and corrupted screen. "No." he says seriously, looking me in the eye. "It was prob'ly Beck."

I can tell he was lying, even though most of his body language checks out. His tell is a certain look he gets in his eyes - innocent, almost - and I know Myles only ever looks innocent when he's quite the opposite. It works on our parents, but not me.

"You know Beckett can't even turn that laptop on. He could have conceivable messed up the keys, but that's grape juice, which Beckett hates even the presence of." I reason, since I know Myles won't give up until I prove he did it.

Myles scowls, annoyed at being caught. "Sorry, simple-toon." he says insincerely. "Professor Primate wanted to make a graph."

I sigh. Little does Myles know, but Professor Primate is actually Professor Primate II, since I lost the original while escaping from the pixie Opal Koboi's past self. Just another day in the life of Artemis Fowl II.

"Well, you could've just asked. Also, don't call me simple-toon." I say patronisingly.

"Bye, simple-toon." calls Myles, who has probably not even been listening.

I scowl again, but don't persist. If Myles finds out that that irritates me, he'll never stop. Strange how such an unusual boy could be so normal in terms of sibling rivalry.

Sighing, I turn back to the computer and, producing a cleaner, start cleaning the keys. It will be easy to fix, but the repair will probably take about half an hour. Half an hour I cannot afford to waste, if my new project is to succeed. Fortunately, the project is in a place where Myles can't possibly find it. I hope.

Presently, Butler enters the room. "Artemis." he says.

"Yes, Butler?" I reply absently.

Butler hesitates. "Artemis, don't shoot the messenger but... your mother is going to a friend's birthday party, and she says she'd like you to come."

I stop cleaning the keyboard and spin around in my seat at close to light speed (Not really. It's a hyperbole). "A...what?" I ask, clearly rhetorically. A party? I cannot afford to lose time like this. I'm so surprised I actually facepalm, a juvenile habit I despise.

"Yes," Butler says solemnly, as if he is inviting me to my own funeral. Which it probably will be. I dislike people in general, as a rule, with few exceptions.

"And I suppose I don't have a choice?" I ask.

"Yes. She said she worries that you never socialise."

"Socialise? I like being alone." I spit out, as if the words are poisoned.

"Sorry." Butler says defensively, and leaves hastily before I get any angrier.

This will be such a waste of time, I think. And I can't waste time if I expect to finish my machine any time soon.

I sigh. Nothing to be done about it. I'll have to go.